


Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall

by APgeeksout



Category: Fringe
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia's got a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/gifts).



The medics have finally, finally left her alone, either convinced that she's not badly damaged or resigned to her refusal of further care.  In either case, they've gone about their other work while she sits on the lip of their rig, cold metal biting through the wool of her pants and harsh chemical smells from the remnants of John's vehicle burning her throat.    
  
She tries not to watch the other agents - some of them team-mates on previous assignments, none of them complete strangers - picking over the scene.  A knot of them picking over John before he's bagged for transport and dissection.    
  
She doesn't intend to cry here: bad enough for the entire field office to have fresh ammunition to whisper about fraternization without also giving them cause to worry about her fragile emotional state.  In truth, there's a part of her that wonders if she should cry for him at all: hadn't he risked her life in this chase? Hadn't she just discovered the first steps in what she already suspects is a long trail of deceit? Hadn't he used his last words to cast her into further uncertainty? How could she know what else he'd lied about? What if none of it had been true?  
  
Despite her good intentions, her eyes well, mercifully blurring her view of the scene, and when the first sob escapes from her raw throat, she stops fighting it.  She lets herself bawl: breath coming in shuddering gasps, shoulders shaking with it, loose strands of hair clinging to her face. She's curled over her knees, folded nearly in half in the back of the ambulance when she realizes she's no longer alone.    
  
Charlie steps in front of her, making himself a barrier against the cold wind and the view of the crash site.    
  
"Aw, Liv," he says, opening his arms and drawing her against his chest.  He's warm and steady - which is another way of saying he's _Charlie_ \- and his coat smells faintly of sweet, sharp cedar.  She leans into him while she slowly pulls herself together.    
  
Once her breathing has mostly evened out, he says, "You should have called me."  He's scolding her, though it's not coming out as stern as it could, with his gentle tone and the comforting circle he's rubbing into the space between her shoulder blades.       
  
"Thanks for coming, anyway," she says, looping an arm around him in a light squeeze before she pulls away.    
  
"I'd have been here sooner if I'd known."  He produces a handkerchief and lets her dry her face before he continues.  "Been a rough couple of days, hasn't it?"  
  
"And strange," she agrees.  She gives him a shaky smile.  "Not so sure how I'm gonna be fine this time around, Charlie."  
  
"You're gonna start by letting me have your back."

When she finally nods her agreement, he pulls her to her feet and guides her toward his agency vehicle. "And," he adds, opening the door for her, "by coming home with me, so that Sonia can feed you tamales until you feel human again."


End file.
